


Shh, sweetheart

by SmonksTheMuse



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne Calls Babies 'Sweetheart', Bruce Wayne Loves Kids, Bruce Wayne gets misty-eyed over the birth of his grandchild, Fluff, Gen, Prompt Fic, if I did it right your heart will melt a few sentences in, literally it's canon he does it, this is literally just Bruce and his grandkids that I made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmonksTheMuse/pseuds/SmonksTheMuse
Summary: Prompt by Jerseydevious on tumblr: "HI I WOULD LIKE TO NICELY AND KINDLY SUGGEST BRUCE CUDDLING FOUR (4) GRANDBABIES THAT MAKE FUN OF HIS CREAKY BONES AND WRINKLY CHIN. SNUGGLES. THEY ALL FALL ASLEEP ON EACH OTHER. OTHER OPTIONS INCLUDE BRUCE HOLDING A GRANDBABY FOR THE FIRST TIME. I BEG U FOR BABIES THAT IS ALL"I didn't get it all, but it turned out pretty well in my opinion.





	Shh, sweetheart

Her name was Mary.

Mary Martha Grayson.

He held her gently, cradled in his arms like something precious - and she was, she was precious beyond measure, she was beautiful and perfect and he would die for this little girl in less than a beat of her tiny heart. Her eyes were closed and she slept peacefully, but Bruce had heard her first cries hardly an hour before.

They had been loud and strong and the sound had taken his breath away. He had gone weak at the knee and his chest had tightened so much he’d thought it might burst.

And now he was holding her, wrapped up in her little blanket with her little cap on her head, gazing down at her little face and not even trying to hold back the tears that came to his eyes.

“Bruce?” Dick said softly. He stood beside him, eyes still red-rimmed from crying his own tears of joy at Mary’s birth. “Are you…?”

Bruce looked up, from his granddaughter to his son, and smiled so widely it hurt. His vision was blurred, but he laughed, snuggling Mary closer to his chest and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love her,” he whispered. “I love her so much, Dick. She’s beautiful.”

Mary snuffled in her sleep and shifted a bit, making a tiny, barely-audible squeak.

If Bruce’s heart hadn’t already melted to a puddle on the floor an hour ago, it most certainly would have now.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You can sleep. I’ve got you.”

* * *

 

_Six years later…_

“Granpa?” Little hands prodded him shyly. “Granpa? Are you awake?”

Bruce opened his eyes blearily and turned his head toward the small, quiet voice. After a second of adjusting to the darkness of the room, he saw Mary’s face at the side of his bed, pale and frightened and wet with tears.

He was awake instantly, lifting his head up off his pillow and stretching his arm out to her, careful not to wake the other children. He brushed away her tears gently, and she brought her hands up to wrap around his wrist.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered. “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?”

Mary nodded silently, bottom lip trembling. Bruce’s heart broke a little; Mary was unfortunately prone to nightmares, and it was rare that she went more than two or three weeks without one. She would wake up from them crying and go to her parents, and Dick and Barbara would let her sleep with them for the rest of the night.

And since she was staying the night with Bruce, Dick and Barbara having been blindsided by some urgent business in Metropolis, she had come to him.

He pulled back the covers and patted the bed beside him. “Climb in here with me,” he said softly. “But try to be quiet, okay? We don’t want to wake the others.”

Mary clambered up, glancing at the three sleeping children that also shared his bed tonight. Her siblings the twins, four-year-old Jade and Jasmine, lay curled around each other like kittens on top of his legs, which had gone numb. Peter - Tim’s son, little Petey, almost two - was on top of him, sprawled across his chest and left arm, which was also numb.

Mary tucked herself against his side, snuggling close as he put his free arm around her. “Do you remember your bad dream?” he asked quietly. He felt Mary shake her head no, and he ran his fingers through her soft hair comfortingly. “That’s alright,” he murmured. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you.”

Mary buried her face into his side. “It was scary,” she whispered.

With a bit of maneuvering, he twisted enough so he could press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Shh, sweetheart. You can sleep. I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic and others can be found on my tumblr: vintage-smokestack.tumblr.com


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